Aurelian woke before the bell.
Old habits surfaced faster than intention. His eyes opened at the faintest shift in ambient mana, the academy's warding array transitioning from night-cycle to morning flow. The sensation was subtle—most students would never notice it—but to him it felt like a change in pressure, a quiet click as the world adjusted its posture.
He lay still for a moment, staring at the smooth stone ceiling.
No cracks.
No runes meant to suppress.
No chains.
Just quiet.
He sat up slowly, breathing once—twice—then swung his legs over the side of the bed. The floor was cool beneath his feet, grounding. His scars tugged faintly as his muscles engaged, reminders without pain.
Still Blade, he thought—not as defense, but as alignment.
He dressed in the academy uniform, movements precise. The fabric was light but reinforced, designed to endure mana feedback and physical strain. He tied his hair back, white strands neat and controlled, and paused before the small mirror by the door.
Royal purple eyes stared back.
Unhidden.
He held the gaze for a heartbeat, then nodded once—to himself, to the memory of those who had brought him here.
"Let's begin," he murmured.
The corridor on Floor Seven was already awake.
Kaelen's door stood open, the boy himself leaning against the frame while tightening the strap on a practice gauntlet. He glanced up as Aurelian stepped out.
"Morning," Kaelen said casually. "You sleep?"
Aurelian nodded. "Enough."
"That's better than most first nights," Kaelen replied. "Half the floor looked ready to duel their beds."
A door clicked open behind them.
Seraphina stepped out, braid neatly tied, uniform immaculate as always. She glanced between the two of them, eyes sharp but not unfriendly.
"You're both early," she noted.
Aurelian shrugged slightly. "Habit."
Kaelen grinned. "Fear of being late."
Seraphina snorted quietly. "Same difference."
They fell into step together without discussion, heading toward the central lecture wing. The academy grounds were alive now—students moving in clusters, conversations overlapping, mana signatures brushing past one another like invisible currents.
Aurelian felt it all.
Power everywhere.
Untamed.
Unrefined.
Potential, he corrected himself.
As they approached the lecture hall assigned to their course, whispers followed them.
Not loud.
But intentional.
"That's him."
"Valemont."
"Those eyes—"
"SSS+."
Aurelian ignored them.
He had learned long ago that attention fed on reaction.
The lecture hall was smaller than the amphitheater but still vast—tiered seating curving around a central floor etched with instructional arrays. The air thrummed faintly with mana-neutralizing enchantments designed to prevent accidents without fully suppressing students.
Smart.
Aurelian chose a seat near the middle—not front, not back.
Seraphina sat to his left. Kaelen to his right.
Unspoken consensus.
As the hall filled, Aurelian took in his surroundings. Nobles sat straighter, their mana polished but constrained by expectation. Commoners leaned forward, hungry, their power raw and unshaped. A few students radiated quiet danger—the kind that came from experience rather than pedigree.
Then the door at the front opened.
And the room changed.
The man who entered did not announce himself with presence alone.
He cut it.
Mana parted around him as if unwilling to brush against something sharper than itself. He wore no academy robes—only a dark, high-collared coat with silver trim and a simple insignia pinned at the shoulder.
A sword hung at his hip.
Not decorative.
Used.
The chatter died instantly.
The man stopped at the center of the hall and surveyed the room with cool, assessing eyes the color of storm steel.
"Sit properly," he said.
Not loudly.
Not angrily.
Everyone obeyed.
Aurelian felt a flicker of recognition—not memory, but alignment. This was a man who understood discipline as survival, not ceremony.
"Welcome," the man continued, "to Combat and Mana Integration."
He turned slightly, pacing as he spoke.
"My name is Instructor Rael Mordane," he said. "You may call me Instructor. You will not call me sir, master, or anything else that implies respect you have not earned."
A few students stiffened.
Good, Aurelian thought. That filtered the fragile ones quickly.
"This course exists," Rael went on, "because raw talent gets people killed. Mana without understanding destroys its wielder faster than any enemy. And combat without restraint creates corpses instead of warriors."
His gaze swept the hall—and paused, just briefly, on Aurelian.
Not lingering.
Not challenging.
Assessing.
"You are here," Rael said, "to learn how not to die stupidly."
A few students laughed nervously.
Rael did not.
The laughter died.
"You," he continued, "will learn to align body, mana, and intent. If you cannot do all three, you will fail. If you attempt to compensate for one with another, you will fail harder."
He stopped pacing.
"Before we begin," Rael said, "I want to address something."
His eyes flicked toward the side seating where administrative observers sat.
"This year," he said flatly, "contains three SSS+ talents."
A ripple ran through the room.
Rael raised a hand—not for silence.
For control.
"Talent," he said, "is not strength."
His gaze returned to the students.
"It is capacity. Nothing more."
He gestured sharply toward the central floor.
"Those of you who believe a letter defines you will learn otherwise. Quickly."
Kaelen leaned back slightly, smirk faint but restrained. Seraphina sat perfectly still, eyes intent.
Aurelian felt nothing but focus.
Rael turned toward the board behind him and tapped it once.
Names appeared in glowing script.
Aurelian Valemont
Seraphina Vale
Kaelen Rhys
The room went silent again.
"You three," Rael said, not looking at them, "will not receive special treatment."
A pause.
"You will receive worse."
Kaelen's grin widened. Seraphina's lips curved faintly. Aurelian inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the challenge.
Rael turned back to the hall.
"Because expectations kill faster than enemies," he said. "And you will have many."
He looked directly at Aurelian now.
"You, Valemont."
Aurelian rose smoothly. "Instructor."
Rael studied him for a long moment.
"Your posture," Rael said, "is correct. Your breathing is controlled. Your mana is… quiet."
A murmur ran through the class.
"That is not praise," Rael added. "That is an observation."
Aurelian met his gaze without flinching.
"Good," Rael said at last. "Sit."
Aurelian did.
Rael turned back to the class.
"Your first lesson," he said, "is simple."
He drew his sword halfway from its sheath.
The sound was barely audible.
But every student felt it.
"Power reveals itself," Rael said, "even when you don't want it to."
He slid the blade back in.
"Your job," he concluded, "is to decide when."
The bell rang—clear, resonant, final.
Class dismissed.
Students erupted into motion, voices rising, energy surging.
Aurelian remained seated for a moment longer.
Seraphina exhaled softly. "Well," she said. "That was… encouraging."
Kaelen chuckled. "I like him. He looks like he'd kill us if we waste his time."
Aurelian stood.
"Yes," he said quietly. "He would."
As they filed out with the others, Aurelian felt something unfamiliar settle in his chest.
Not fear.
Not anticipation.
Momentum.
For the first time, he was not reacting to the world.
He was moving with it.
And the academy—sharp, dangerous, alive—had just acknowledged him not as a legend…
…but as a student who would be tested to his limits.
And survive.